


All The Best People Are Crazy

by ZombieBabs



Series: Breaking & Entering [3]
Category: The Black Tapes Podcast
Genre: Families of Choice, Food Issues, Friendship, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, mentions of eating disorders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 22:19:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11114043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZombieBabs/pseuds/ZombieBabs
Summary: It’s been five years since Ruby started working for Dr. Strand. And since then, she’s come to learn howweirdhe can be about food.It borders on neurotic, really.





	All The Best People Are Crazy

It’s been five years since Ruby started working for Dr. Strand. Since then, she’s graduated from high school. With honors, no less. At the beginning of freshman year, Ruby was contemplating dropping out of school entirely. She never imagined herself walking to the stage to receive her diploma, gold cords hanging around her neck. And she _never_ imagined she would apply to the local university and actually open the letter to find _Congratulations, you have been accepted_...

She works part-time at the Institute. Her responsibilities have changed over the years--Dr. Strand trusts her with more than filing these days. He’s still understanding of her school work. Encourages her, even. He still allows her to stay at the Institute as long as she likes, as long as she’s working on a paper or studying for a test.

She’s thinking about going into history. Or maybe psychology, like Dr. Strand. As much as he’s fascinated by religion and the rituals and beliefs associated with it, and as much as it affects their work at the Institute, Ruby doesn’t think it would interest her all that much. Dr. Strand only smiles when she tells him. He doesn’t push her in any direction. He reminds her she still has time to decide her major, that she can explore until she finds a field of study which suits her.

It’s been five years since Ruby started working for Dr. Strand. Since then, she’s gotten to know him pretty well. She knows his wife disappeared, only a few years ago. She knows from the photograph on his desk--the frame replaced, the glass no longer shattered--he has a daughter. She knows something must have happened with her, as well, because he never talks about her. He basically shuts down whenever someone asks about his family.

Ruby also knows how dedicated to the Institute he is. How driven he is in his quest for truth. It can make him seem abrasive, sometimes impatient with his clients. Condescending, even. For him, the answers are obvious. Either the work of charlatans tricking people out of their money or it’s all in the client’s head. Ruby has lost count how many times she’s heard the word _apophenia_ come out of his mouth. 

He might be all those things. Abrasive, impatient, condescending. But Ruby also has a sharpness to her. A jagged edge not identical to his, but similar. While others might find his mannerisms off putting, they put Ruby at ease. In his presence, at least, she doesn’t have to hide that part of herself. She can be who she is. Just Ruby.

It’s been five years since Ruby started working for Dr. Strand. And since then, she’s also come to learn how _weird_ he can be about food.

It borders on neurotic, really.

He constantly checks expiration dates. He refuses to eat leftovers. He won’t take food home with him from restaurants. The assistants have to be careful what they leave in the break room. The cleaning staff have been instructed to toss _everything_ left in the fridge on Fridays. Lunchboxes and all.

Some days, he’ll take one look at the food in front of him and toss it in the trash.

Other days, he refuses to eat anything at all. No non-perishables with expirations years into the future. No fruit or nuts or the freshly made bread from the bakery down the street. No food she can assure him hasn’t been left out for more than an hour. Nothing. 

It’s a stress thing. Certain cases send him into a spiral. They’re the cases where answers aren’t so obvious. Where he can’t prove one way or the other how the phenomena was faked. Or just a figment of someone’s imagination. Those cases don’t go on the shelves inside the white VHS cases. Those cases, when he can finally be persuaded to drop them until the technology becomes available to disprove them, go into black VHS cases. He keeps a few of them in his storeroom, but many of them disappear.

When he isn’t writing or researching, he’s working on those cases. Obsessing over them.

Those are the cases he’s made his life’s work.

She recognizes the signs. She watches him, feeling helpless.

But as much as she wants to knock some sense into him, he’s a grown-ass man. He’s still her boss.

“Hey, Dr. Strand,” she says. It’s eleven in the morning and he’s just now getting in.

He takes a few more steps without looking at her. Then he stops, blinks, and looks at her. “Oh, hello, Ruby.”

“Feeling alright?”

“Yes,” he says. His voice is far away, eyes focused inward behind his glasses. “Fine. Do I have any appointments?”

“You have lunch with your publicist at one.”

He shakes his head. “Cancel it. Please.”

She wants to argue. It’s been days since she’s last seen him eat. She sighs and pulls up the contact information for Jenna Yates. “Wouldn’t you rather reschedule it? You have an opening next Friday. Midmorning.”

It takes him a long moment to consider. “Yes, that’s fine.”

She watches him go into his office with a muttered, “You got it, boss.”

The phone is halfway to her ear, her fingers hovering over the numbers, when there’s a crash and heavy _thud_ from inside Dr. Strand’s office.

Ruby drops the phone, the dial tone still buzzing, and races into the room.

Dr. Strand is on his knees, supporting himself with a hand on the edge of his desk. His head is bowed and his eyes are closed.

She kneels in front of him, inspecting him for injury. His face is gaunt. His eyes shadowed. His hand, the one not currently keeping him upright, trembles.

“You _idiot_ ,” Ruby says. 

The vehemence of the insult surprises him into opening his eyes. He sways, probably lightheaded, dizzy. “I must have tripped.”

“Like hell you did. You fucking _collapsed_.” 

“Language,” he reminds her. He tries to lift himself off the floor, but Ruby takes his arm by the wrist and forces him to look her in the eyes.

“You’re not eating. I _know_ you’re not.”

He glares at her. “It’s really none of your concern.”

“Don’t give me that,” Ruby says. She returns his glare, matching his stubbornness with that of her own. “It _is_ my concern when you end up face-first on the floor.”

“I did not fall face-first--”

She just about shakes him. “Not this time. But what about next time? Or the one after that? Why the hell do you keep doing this to yourself? Why won’t you just eat something? Literally anything?”

“I--” He looks away from her.

“You, what?”

“Can’t.”

One of Ruby’s friends, one of the first she made in freshman year of university, suffered from anorexia. She would move her food around on her plate, destroy it by dousing it with salt and pepper, and finally push it away with a simple, “I can’t.”

She dropped out of school. Or, rather, the school made her withdraw, for medical reasons. Ruby hasn’t seen or heard from her since.

“Please don’t tell me you have an ED.”

Dr. Strand shakes his head.

“Then, what?”

He tries again to pull away. It doesn’t take much for Ruby to put her hands on his shoulders and force him back down. 

It’s the most Ruby has ever touched him.

It’s been five years since Ruby started working for Dr. Strand. And since then, Ruby has watched him run away anytime he doesn’t want to face something. When things become too hard for him to handle. Because he _always_ insists on handling everything on his own.

“Tell me,” Ruby says. “Tell me and I won’t drive your ass to the hospital. Right fucking now.”

He doesn’t chew her out for cursing. That alone puts Ruby on high alert.

His silence is deafening. She’s just about to reach into her pocket for her keys when he says, “Food poisoning.”

“What?”

“I have...issues. With food poisoning.”

Ruby can’t believe her ears. “What?”

Since she won’t let him escape, Dr. Strand closes his eyes and resigns himself to ridicule.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“ _Why_?”

He opens his eyes. “Why does anyone develop a phobia?”

“I don’t know,” Ruby says. “You’ve got the degree in psychology.”

“It doesn’t come from anywhere. It isn’t rational. It isn’t _logical_.”

“So, if you know that, why don’t you just eat something?”

“It’s crawling with bacteria,” he says, unable to suppress his shudder. “Parasites. Botulism.”

“It isn’t,” Ruby says. “I can promise you, it isn’t.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“I can, actually. Don’t move.”

Ruby goes to her desk. She opens the middle drawer, where she keeps bags of candy, packets of trail mix, and power bars, just in case she forgets her lunch. She grabs one of the bars and a napkin from the stack and returns to his office.

Dr. Strand sits in the chair at his desk. He watches her, a dubious expression on his face, as she approaches.

Ruby hands him the bar. “Unwrap it.”

He does, but only after checking the expiration date. Slowly, due to the shaking of his hands. He looks at the granola and almonds and whey, drizzled with candied honey, with distaste.

She hands him the napkin. “Break off a piece and give it to me. I’ll show you it isn’t poisoned.”

He does so. Ruby puts it in her mouth, chews, and swallows.

He stares at her for a full minute, before the silence is broken by the rumbling in his stomach. 

“See?” She twirls around. “Not poisoned.”

He looks from the bar in his hand back to her. “I can’t trust it.”

“But you can trust me, right? You’ve trusted me for the last five years. Since you were stupid enough to hire the thief who broke into your office.”

“You weren’t a thief,” he says. “You didn’t take anything.”

“Don’t change the subject.” Ruby crosses her arms, to keep herself from grabbing him by the shoulders again. “Please, eat. Please? I can’t have you dying on me because you won’t take care of yourself.”

He looks just as surprised by her sincerity as she feels. But it’s true and she refuses to take it back.

Dr. Strand takes a hesitant bite. And another.

Under her scrutiny, he finishes the entire bar.

“Wasn’t so bad, was it?”

His face scrunches up. “I feel sick.”

“That’s because you haven’t eaten anything in a week. Let me get you some water.” She gets as far as the door before a thought occurs to her. “Don’t throw it up, or I really will take you to the hospital.”

“Ruby,” he says, before she can leave. “Thank you.”

“What for?” she says. And rolls her eyes. “No problem. Just know I’m scheduling you an appointment to see a therapist. You can go or not go, but I refuse to cancel the appointment for you. You’ll have to do it yourself.”

“I--” 

Ruby expects him to argue, but he surprises her.

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she says. And goes to get him a bottled water from the vending machine. She won’t push it by asking him to drink from the tap.

 

  
It’s been...too many years to count since Ruby started working for Dr. Strand. And when she hears Alex Reagan ask him what he fears, she expects him to dodge the question.

“Food poisoning,” he says.

Alex laughs, assumes he’s messing with her by the irony in his voice. She doesn’t know about the _years_ of therapy he’s gone through in order to work through his phobia. She doesn’t know about the slip-ups he still has, when eating becomes impossible.

“If only you knew,” Ruby says. 

She shakes her head and returns to her work.

She sincerely hopes the reporter never has to find out.


End file.
